


Thy Faith Fail Not

by softmoth



Series: Thy Faith Fail Not [2]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Injury, M/M, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8242907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softmoth/pseuds/softmoth
Summary: The burned man is practically seething as he watches, and he addresses Simon in a low murmur: "I desire to see you spread open and screaming....I want to see you broken, courier." And that was just like Joshua, Daniel thinks- even his dirty talk was all darkness and violence, ravaging and conquering.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A very old [kink meme response](http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4875.html?thread=8666635#t8666635), requests were a threesome between Joshua Graham, Daniel, and M!Courier. No longer on the meme but reposting here. Apologizes for any weird formatting issues, copy and pasted directly from the former fill and probably typo-ridden. 
> 
> Takes place after the conclusion of Honest Hearts, with the "kill Salt-Upon-Wounds" ending. 
> 
> Feedback/concrit is adored.

"You sure there isn't some way I could help? Aren't you in a lot of pain?" Simon's words were spoken in earnest, his large brown eyes glimmering with that evasive, ever present _innocence_ that never fails to cause a pang of... something, deep in Joshua's chest. 

Such naive optimism inspired an aching melancholy within the former legate, and it catches him by surprise every time.

Outwardly, he remains neutral. "As I have told you, many times before," he assures the fretting courier, "Even if Zion had steadfast access to chems, I am completely immune to their effects." He fixes the courier with a serious stare, squinting behind his dirty bandages. "Do you truly believe that a man in my position would not have already tried everything possible?" 

"S'pose so." Simon averts his eyes from the hard look, and Joshua feels the briefest tinge of guilt. He hadn't meant to be quite so blunt, so pessimistic in the face of the courier's proverbial olive branch offering. But it was a tired subject, one that the two revisited with exhausting frequency. 

"It never ceases to amaze me" Joshua remarks, turning away from Simon to inspect the gun in his hand. It was one of many, piled high at the desk where he sat. Each pistol shines faintly in the glow of his lantern-lit cave, scrubbed clean of dirt and grime, and he adds the one in his hand to the stack as he continues. "How easily you seem to forget reality when it doesn't align with your own particular desires-always searching for a way to make the unachievable possible. Truly, you place a startlingly large amount of faith in the illogical...for a self-proclaimed Gentile." 

Simon smirks at the teasing, tugging self-consciously on the brim of his ever present cowboy hat. "I never _proclaimed_ to be anything," he says back, fingers scratching audibly against the stubble on his cheeks. " 'Sides a man making a delivery, anyway. Speaking of which..." The courier grunts as he heaves a heavy package up onto Joshua's work bench. It thumps loudly against the wooden table, shaking it and disturbing the perfectly stacked pile of handguns. Joshua shoots an exasperated look at Simon as one falls off the side of the table, clamoring to the ground. "Was that really necessary?" He asks acidly.

Simon shrugs but his grin gives him away, dimples pressing devilishly into his cheeks. "Compliments of Happy Trails," he answers. "And pretty damn heavy. Medical kits?"

Joshua scoots back in his chair, leaning down to retrieve the fallen handgun. "Yes," he replies, wiping off the pistol on the knee of his pants. He observes his own distorted reflection in the muzzle of the gun, warped and strange in the dim light. "With Daniel's absence, the Sorrows have required increasing medical aid, and I took it upon myself to supply them."

Simon's eyebrows furrow at the mention of Daniel's retreat from Zion- the man had left not long after the courier had helped Joshua drive out Salt-upon-wounds and the rest of the White Legs, returning to his home at Dead Horse point after a heated exchange with the burned man. Simon hadn't known the specifications of their falling out, but he assumed it had something to do with the Sorrows' increasingly war-like behavior. Daniel never did seem to tolerate overt militancy. 

Joshua knew that Simon still felt guilt for the way things turned out, but the before the other man could open his mouth and vocalize as much, Joshua stops him with a single raised, bandaged hand. " _When thou wast young, thou girdest thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest_ " he recites, voice reverent and echoing on Angel Cave's hollow walls, " _but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not._ "

Simon's eyes crinkle in mirth. "You're saying you're old?"

Joshua was not amused."No. I am saying that I am only a man, and I am not infallible." He turns back to his guns, picking up a rag and resuming his cleaning as he continues to address Simon. "Often times we must place our trust in the hands of those who would lead us well, and trust them when they carry us to places we would not otherwise go." 

Joshua's eyes grew distant, staring off into some unseen vantage point. Remembering. "This is what was said to the disciple Simon Peter, when his faith had faltered. I know you carry a sense of responsibility in your heart for the fate of Zion, but without your help, we would have never achieved what we have today." 

Two bright blue eyes affixed their gaze on to Simon, suddenly, and the courier resisted the urge to squirm under their burning scrutiny. Joshua often brought up stories of Simon's biblical namesake, invoking his teachings and weaving his lessons into their conversations, sometimes for no other reason than to gently tease the other man. But what he says now is not in jest, and the words carry thick implications.

"Daniel is.... upset. But he just needs time. Do not doubt your actions, Courier. You and I are only vessels, existing solely to carry out the will of the Lord."

Simon thumbs his nose, shifting his weight from side to side. He always appears slightly uncomfortable when Joshua lapses into one of his sermons. "Whatever you say, boss. So, about that payment..."

Boss. A nickname the courier had bestowed upon Joshua. Something he had no doubt picked up from his ghoul friend that he sometimes brought around, who's name always escaped the burned man. Rodriguez... Romero... something of that nature. Though he could not remember his name, Joshua held much respect for the ghoul- equally impressed with both his intricate knowledge of all things mechanical, and the fact that he was the only person Joshua had ever met with a skin condition much worse than his own. 

Joshua fixes the courier with another look, one that clearly states he is losing patience. "As I tell you with every delivery you make, and as I am sure you are already well aware, the Dead Horses have established a predetermined payment schedule with the Happy Trails Caravan. Never was I instructed to pay you directly."

Simon grins at Joshua, tipping the brim of his hat. "Well, shoot, guess you caught me. Again." It had become somewhat of a running joke, him pestering Graham about a non-existent debt upon completing any sort of delivery to the camp.

Joshua continues to stare at Simon, with the same oddly intense expression shouldering in his gaze. He feels there is something hanging unstated between them, but is unsure if it should be addressed. After fidgeting for a moment, the courier turned to make his leave, but just before he could make it around the bend of the cave's exit, Joshua blurts out:

"What would you do, if it were possible?"

Simon pauses, bracing himself on one strong hand as he leans against the cave's mouth. He turns his head around, looking over his shoulder. "If what were possible, boss?" he shoots back, and even in the darkened room Joshua could clearly make out the hint of a teasing smile playing about the courier's features. 

"Chems," he replies, looking back to his guns and busying his hands, which seemed to shake slightly against his will. Though his heart was pounding in his ears, Joshua manages to keep his voice steady. "If, by some miracle, I could treat my burns. Numb them away, or reverse them entirely. What would you...do?"

There was a beat of silence, but Joshua dares not look up. The air around the pair crackles, alive, like fire. Finally, the courier answers in a voice much darker than usual: "I'd peel back your bandages, and get a good look at what I risked so much for."

Joshua exhales sharply, pressing the pistol to his table perhaps a little too loudly as it clanged against the surface. His knuckles grip the spotless gun, buffed to anxious perfection. He closed his eyes. "Daniel will be visiting, soon," he responds offhandedly, though the seeming non sequitur is heavy with meaning. "Already there are whispers amongst the Sorrows of his return. I would like it very much if you would join us when he comes."

His only response is the heavy footfall of Simon turning to leave the cave, but each step rings out the other man's answer clearly.

Joshua knows.

Simon _will_ be there.

\--

The flickering glow of the campfire dances orange and gold across the stark, grey angles of the two shabby tents. As Joshua feeds another dried branch into the flame he briefly gazes upwards, tilting his face to admire the dark expanse of the star-spattered night sky. 

He had decided to meet Daniel at the campsite just outside of the Narrows, at the base of the steep cliffs where the river lazily rolls past, burbling over shallow rock and stone. Joshua had anticipated Daniel's arrival at the camp, as it was a strategic meeting location. Close enough to the Sorrows' grounds that it would feel familiar, but far enough away to remain impersonal. There was no doubt in Joshua's mind that the Sorrows would have welcomed Daniel back with open arms (and the former legate knew that, didn't he? Knew the graceful and selfless forgiveness that resonated within the souls of the tribes). But he also suspected that the missionary didn't intend to stay permanently- this was not a reunion. It was a confrontation. 

Daniel is visibly surprised to find Joshua at the camp first, quietly tending to the crackling flames. He seats himself wordlessly across from the other man, the chill of the night-cooled ground seeping through his denim slacks. Joshua regards him warily. Daniel looks... tired, eyes ringed deeply with grey unrest, emphasized by the fire's light. 

"I never was quite as adept as you are," Joshua murmurs, "at starting these." He gestures to the flames between them. Daniel turns his eyes to the fire, listening to the crunching pop of its burning. "Funny," he replies, and his voice is gravely from disuse. "I always thought you were pretty good at starting fires." 

He reclines back, moving closer towards the warmth, and Joshua notices that the other man was wearing only a thin cotton shirt, collared but short sleeved, leaving his arms exposed to the chilly air. 

"It has been uncharacteristically cold, these past few nights," Joshua states apologetically. "If the fire is not enough, I can go retrieve your cl-" He suddenly stops, wide-eyed and mortified. Daniel sits up suddenly. "My what?" he demands, but Joshua refuses to continue. Pressing his lips tightly together, he looks down at the fire and tosses another scrap of twig into it, hoping Daniel will not pursue the matter. But, naturally, he does:

"My _what_?" Daniel repeats, and Joshua hears the growing agitation creeping into his voice. "My clothes? My clothing I left behind, because I didn't want a single reminder of this godforsaken place? You _kept_ my clothes? Jesus, Joshua!" Daniel's voice was raised, slightly hysterical, and Joshua is momentarily shocked. The missionary had never taken the lord's name in vain before, not in Joshua's presence. 

"I merely thought it best," he answers slowly, "to leave your belongings as they were. As they are. It was not my place to... dispose of them." 

"Not your PLACE? Are you kidding me?" He hears the scraping sound of Daniel pulling himself to his feet, walking around the fire. His knees crack as he kneels down in front of Joshua, forcing the burned man to meet his gaze. 

Joshua stares back blankly, schooling his features to neutral. He will not be baited by Daniel's irrational outburst. He will be steadfast. 

Daniel was so close that Joshua could see the pink, angered flush rising up his neck, shadows from the fire playing across his illuminated countenance. "Consider this your permission, then," he says, voice quieter but no less angry. "You can take my clothes, my tools, my books- everything, and throw them into the _fucking_ river." He jabs a finger emphatically at the stream rolling by a few feet away, waters inky with darkness. "Because I don't want to have anything that reminds me of what happened to Zion. What **you** did to Zion." 

Joshua raises his chin, refusing to back down. He could feel the heat of Daniel's breath behind the emphatic words, warming the bandages around his own lips. Their noses were almost touching. "So," he responds. "If you did not come here to retrieve, then perhaps you are here to... give?"

Confusion clouds Daniel's features and he momentarily forgets his anger. "Wha- give? Give what?"

As if on cue, the pair turns towards the sound of approaching footsteps- the heavy thudding of boot soles slapping against the ground. Then, like an apparition, the courier appears, materializing from the darkness as he steps into the light of the campfire. He flashes a trademark dimpled grin at the two men, but Joshua doesn't miss the way his right hand flicks to the pistol at his hip as he takes in the hostile body language of their position. 

"I could hear yellin' about a mile away. Everything OK here?" 

Daniel gives Joshua a final withering stare before standing back up and turning to face the courier. 

"Simon. I wasn't expecting you to be here, but I can't say I'm surprised. I suppose Joshua asked you, didn't he?"

Simon lowers his hand from his side. 

"Aw, and who says I didn't just want to see an old friend?" He jokes good-naturedly. "'Sides, I come through here a lot with the caravan these days, anyway. Frankly, I'm surprised that _you're_ here! Haven't see your smilin' face in a long while." 

Joshua observes the two as they converse, updating each other on their respective going ons. Simon always had a fondness for Daniel, and though he ultimately ended up siding with the former legate, Joshua felt that Simon and Daniel were much more similar in manner. Both were hopelessly idealistic, bound by their own moral codes of empathy and will to do the "right" thing. Both carried themselves with an understated power born not of raw strength, but intelligence. 

Where they truly differ, Joshua reflects as the two men continue to idly converse, is in their souls. Daniel was... kind. Gentle. At the heart of all his actions seemed to be a silent plea for peace, or tolerance. Simon, however, was colder. Though he brandished a happy-go-lucky attitude, strutting around as proudly and easily as a pre-war cowboy (with the roguish looks, demeanor, and hat to match), he was none the less tainted by the wastelands. Like Joshua, Simon knew the putrid rot of power and greed, knew the potential it had to eat away at a person from the inside out. And where Daniel saw an inherent good inside of all people, Simon saw only the dark, empty potential to consume and destroy, festering and waiting like a cancerous cell. 

Joshua is stirred from his reverence when he hears the word "legion" rise starkly above the lull of conversation.

"What was that?" he interrupts the two, surprise causing him to forget tact. Simon looks amused at the interruption, but Daniel is staring openly at the courier, eyebrows raised. 

"I said," he repeats, "that I heard some interesting stories about the legion on my way here. I had to travel through the Mojave, so I caught a ride with some prospectors in exchange for my medical services."

All three men were sitting now, and Joshua can clearly make out their expressions by the light of the fire. Daniel is sitting cross-legged, leaning back on long pale arms. His dark eyes glitter in the fire's flickers, eyebrows drawing together in a crease as he speaks.

"The prospectors were the ones with the stories. They told me that the legion's numbers had really been dwindling lately, their presence diminishing all over the desert. Less attacks on merchant routes, less raids on caravans, those sorts of things."

Joshua cocks his head to the side. "Fortunate. But not necessarily interesting." He stretches out his hands, warming the tips of his bandaged fingers against the campfire. "Caesar was never very interested in raiding. The legion regards itself as far more civilized than petty bandits and looting gangs."

"See, now, here's the thing," Daniel says, and Joshua is puzzled by the barely contained excitement palpable in the missionary's words. Simon is uncharacteristically quiet, staring off into the dark canyons around them. To Joshua, the courier almost appears...anxious? How peculiar.

Then, Daniel continues and it all falls into place:

"Caesar is dead."

For a moment, Joshua's world stops entirely. His breath catches in his throat and a white hot ringing erupts in his ears, chilling his blood and racing his heart, and all he can manage to croak from suddenly dry lips is a quiet "...how?"

Daniel is smiling, an unkind, manic smile. "Well, from what I could gather, seems some kind of crazy delivery boy rushed Fortification Hill, shooting his way up through legion sentries and soldiers. Then he stabbed Caesar, right in the stomach. Allegedly."

Joshua swallows heavily and pulls his hands slowly away from the fire, processing. The news hits him hard and fast, a wonderfully awful surprise, and he looks to Simon. 

Simon stares back, a deep frown set in his angular jaw that Joshua had never seen before, not even in the courier's darkest shared moments...like the day he had stared down at Salt-Upon-Wounds' kneeling body and shot him point blank in the head, tied and bound like a helpless animal. 

Joshua remembers. They had left the tribal leader for last, slaughtering the remaining White Legs together, but when the time came to lay the final, crushing blow Simon had pulled Joshua aside and raised his own weapon, firing the final shot. Covered in White Legs blood and stinking of their death, Simon had bent down and vomited. But even then, wiping sick from his mouth on the back of his hand, he did not frown, only fixing Joshua with a grim smile. "Sorry," he had apologized, turning away from Joshua's concerned expression. "That just... it reminded me of something that happened. To me. A long time ago."

It was the only explanation Joshua had ever gotten, but even then, even in that bleak, morbid moment, Simon had not frowned. So his expression now seems somehow monumental, and it thrills Joshua in a way that he was sure it should not.

The burned man did not state the obvious. He didn't need to. A much more immediate need boils deep in his belly, an instant craving for an answer to the imperative question: "What was it like?"

Simon exhales shakily and scrubs his hands across his face, pressing his palms against his eyes. "I didn't stab him, " he answers, voice thick and low. He drops his hands, and hard brown eyes meet desperate blue. "... I eviscerated him. Fought my way tooth an' nail up to his little tent, could barely see through all the legion blood. Everywhere, everything was bright red. The flags, the bodies..." 

The former legate could scarcely breath.

"Was out of ammo by the time I made it there, had to kill his mongrels bare handed. I snapped their necks." 

Joshua's chest rises and falls in harsh pants, bloodlust tingling through his body. He unconsciously moves closer to the courier, aching for an intangible something. 

Simon's eyes were glossy, flickering from Joshua to Daniel and back again, never quite sure where to settle. "What I got to Caesar, I... I didn't think. I just moved. He said somethin' to me, somethin' about betrayal-"

Daniel interrupted with a harsh bark of laughter. " _Et tu, Brutus_? Really? Even Caesar can't be that cliché."

Eyes never leaving the courier's, Joshua answers somberly: "Edward always was one for theatrics. Please, Simon. Continue." 

So he does. "I don't know, I didn't hear, because I wasn't listening. I just knew that if I didn't kill him, it'd all be for nothin'. I couldn't... I couldn't let that happen."

"No," Daniel agreed, pressing a hand to Simon's scruffy cheek and tilting his mournful face upward. "You couldn't. Not after all the men that bastard killed. All the wars he started. All the lives he destroyed. "

Simon nodded. "I gutted him. Sliced him straight down from his throat, holding him down and opening him up and I just kept thinking over and over _kill him kill him kill him_ 'til I was sure he was dead, and-" Simon's voice breaks off in a crack, and he pauses to clear his throat.

For the second time that night, Joshua found himself watching the pair, watching the minutiae of their interactions- the shifting touches, the pointed gazes, and now the straining tension so heavy one could taste it. And a strange, crawling itch rolls under his skin. It's the same itch he feels when Simon asks about his burns, or laughs at his preaching, or stares for too long at his bandages. An irritating, scorching need to posses, to take for his own, to press down underneath his body and bend into submission. It's all Joshua can do to mutter a feverish, "Stop... please. Simon. I want..."

Simon reacts immediately, pulling his face out of Daniel's hand and turning to the burned man. "What? What's wrong?" He asks, alarmed, but Daniel shushes the courier. The missionary looks to Joshua, and Joshua can only stare back soundlessly, begging the other man to understand what he wanted.

And, finally, he does.

"He's fine," Daniel murmurs, voice low and soothing. Joshua is reminded, briefly, of the way the missionary used to speak to frightened Sorrows children when he treated their scrapes and bruises, pacifying them. "Everything's fine. There's...something he wants, ok? Something you- _we_ can give him. If you'd like." 

Simon tries to look questioningly towards Joshua, but Daniel firmly takes his chin in hand, physically keeping their eyes locked. "Don't look at him," he commands. "Look at me."

Simon obeys, and Daniel seizes the opportunity. Tilting his head, he seals their lips together in a searing kiss.

Joshua watches hungrily as Simon bends to Daniel's kiss, arching forward into the missionary's grasp. Daniel cards his fingers through Simon's dark hair, trailing kisses down his jaw and affixing his mouth to the man's junction of neck and shoulder. He noses aside the courier's shirt and sucks wetly at his neck, pulling the sensitive skin between his teeth. Simon lets his head loll to the side, eyes rolling to look at Joshua.

The slow, purposeful serenity of their movements has Joshua wondering if the entire thing is merely a dream, an idle fantasy conjured up by his own wants and desires. Illuminated by the orange glow of the campfire's dying embers, the courier looks almost angelic in contrast to the burning hellfire that sizzled inside Joshua's veins, ignited just by the other man's simple gaze. Just a gaze. _How easily_ , Joshua thinks, _how sinfully easily one look can undo me_.

"Simon," Daniel rasps, pulling the other man into his lap and wrapping his arms around the courier's midsection. Simon's sighs deeply as he reclines against the missionary's chest, their intertwined bodies now facing the burned man. When Simon speaks he looks upward, towards the stars, but his words are aimed directly at Joshua:

"What, exactly, do you want'?"

Joshua eyes the way Daniel's nimble fingers dance up and down the courier's clothed chest, toying with the buttons on the front of his shirt. He clears his throat, placing both hands on his knees. Daniel pops open the first button.

Joshua is tempted to remain silent, ignore the question in favor of focusing his full attention on every slow-revealed inch of Simon's chest as it is exposed, but he eventually answers. "I would like to see you." He pauses, then cocks his head as though in thought. " _All_ of you," he amends in a deep rumble.

The corner of the courier's mouth twitches up into a lopsided grin, and he raises his hands to his shirt, aiding Daniel in opening it completely. Fully undone, the edges of the shirt flutter limply at his sides like a curtain unveiled. Joshua visibly tenses at the sight. His fingers grip tighter at his knees when the courier takes Daniel's hand in his own, leading it down to the heavy buckle of his belt. And Joshua does not miss the way Simon subtly presses Daniel's fingers lower, at the swell in his trousers. Nor does he miss the way Daniel whines in response, hurriedly tearing the courier's belt out of his pants and pulling eagerly at the waistband. 

Watching Daniel undress Simon is almost more than Joshua can bear. Each sound, each rustle of clothing and gasp of breath, seems impossibly amplified in their collective silence. The courier lets out another quiet sigh, and the noise is as resonant as a gunshot- Joshua's heart races accordingly. 

When the courier is finally, completely exposed, naked as the day he was born, Daniel wastes no time in tactically consuming as much skin as possible. He runs his hands up and down the courier's chest, rubbing and stroking as he resumes kissing Simon's neck. The courier unconsciously draws his knees together, and Joshua's nostrils flare. He has waited and wanted far too long to be denied another second. 

But to ask is unthinkable. To assign words to his vague, perplexing longings would be too complex, too surreal. So, instead, he participates in the only way he knows how. 

Joshua stands, stepping directly over the exhausted campfire, and kneels before Simon's prone form. Daniel doesn't bother to pause his attentions, lavishing kisses on the naked courier's shoulders as Joshua reaches out and gently, carefully, wraps his hands around Simon's calves. He feels the muscles even though his handwraps, feels them shift and tense under his grip. 

"Wha-" The courier starts to ask, but stops when Joshua begins to put pressure on his legs, pulling them apart. 

"And the Lord said, Simon, Simon, behold," Joshua growls lowly, "Satan hath desired to have you-" He drops his hands after spreading the other mans knees, watches them fall open and zealously drinks in the sight "- that he may _sift_ you as _wheat_." 

Thick, pale fingers push their way between Simon's legs, brushing against the soft member which lay flaccid and surrounded by a thatch of dark, curly hair. Simon groans, pushing back against Daniel, and Joshua watches raptly. He wants, more than anything, to be able to touch. 

He knows that he cannot.

"But I have prayed for thee," he continues, voice barely above a whisper, "that thy faith fail not."

"Oh, fuck," Simon sobs as Daniel reaches down and languidly pumps his slowly swelling erection. He flushes with embarrassment and arousal, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Joshua admires the pink blush as it blooms across the courier's skin, spreading along his neck and chest, and rising all the way to his cheeks. 

The burned man's hands remain stoically at his sides as appreciates Simon's body completely on display. The courier is tanned and lean, wider than Daniel but not as tall, and a dark smattering of hair spans across his chest. Joshua feels a white hot bolt of desire shoot through his body as Daniel reaches up with one free hand and closes his fingers around a single dark nipple, pinching and rolling the sensitive nub until it peaks beneath his ministrations. 

Joshua's gaze travels downward, watching as the courier's penis starts to lengthen and thicken in the missionary's grasp. Joshua had seen naked men before, both tribal men and legionaries from times long ago. But never in an intimate setting, never accompanied by the near unbearable urge to reach out and _touch_. It was driving Joshua insane. His own desire stirred painfully between his legs, a steady throb, but he ignored it. It didn't matter. Nothing, in that moment, mattered more than the two men in front of him- nothing mattered more than Simon, spread open and pleasured. How could Joshua think of anything else?

"Daniel," Simon grunts, hips swiveling in tiny circles in time with the missionary's steady pumping. "Shit, that feels-"

"Not me," Daniel interrupts, releasing the courier's erection. He rubs his hands up and down the courier's chest, tangling his fingers in the damp curls of hair and nodding his head towards Joshua's silent form. "Him. Tell him."

Simon whines at the loss of contact, sweaty skin breaking out in gooseflesh against the cool night air.

"Fine, Joshua, anybody, just somebody do somethin' before I die over here...anythin'...." 

Behind his bandages, Joshua wets his lips. "Anything?" he repeats hoarsely.

"Yes!" The courier agrees emphatically, and Joshua notices the way Simon's hard cock weeps in response, a thick driblet of clear fluid beading from the tip and wetting the sparse hairs beneath his navel. "Anything, whatever you want."

Whatever he wants. Interesting. 

"I want to touch you, "Joshua purrs, "and feel you swell beneath my hands." He is pleased at the groan this elicits from the courier. Daniel is silent, hands plucking lightly at Simon's nipples as he waits for Joshua to go on.

"I want to open you with my fingers," he continues, the flesh of his palms aching from how tightly his hands clenched. "I want to spread you and fill you and take you, until you know nothing save my desire in your core and my name on your lips."

Simon forces out a breathy laugh between pants. "You've got a filthy mouth, for a self-proclaimed holy man." And despite himself, Joshua smiles at the echo of their earlier conversation. "I never proclaimed to be anything," he recites, but his lighthearted banter darkens. "I am carnal, sold under sin. And even I fall to certain temptations..."

Daniel moves, then, wetting a finger in his mouth and pressing it into Simon's entrance. Simon gasps at the initial sting, arousal twitching heavily against his stomach as Daniel thrusts in a second finger, pressing inside of him deeply. 

"Seems awful cruel, don't it?" Simon teases after he collects himself, writhing exaggeratedly against Daniel's scissoring fingers, tilting his hips towards Joshua. "A god makin' sinful things so tempting?" 

Joshua exhales through his nose, forcing his eyes closed to calm himself. The sight of Simon, so wanton in defilement, pink entrance stretched tight over Daniel's curving fingers... it was almost too much. 

"The Lord tempts us," he rumbles in response, "so that he may know our virtue." And when Daniel's fingers curve in at just the right angle Simon keens, a high noise ripped from the back of his throat. Joshua bites his own lips behind scratchy bandages, the dull ache of sharp teeth on scarred flesh serving to ground him. 

He opens his eyes again, and Daniel has removed his fingers to finish lowering his own trousers. The missionary is still completely clothed save the opened zipper at the front of his pants where he had eased out his own swollen member, pressing it snugly into the crease of Simon's ass. He maps the length of the courier's limbs with greedy fingers, following the tight muscle of Simon's tensed calves into the juxtaposing softness of the tender skin behind his knees. When he reaches the courier's thighs he once again moves cautiously higher and higher, to the apex between his legs, and he is startled by a hiss from Joshua. The burned man is practically seething as he watches, and he addresses Simon in a low murmur: "I desire to see you spread open and screaming....I want to see you broken, courier." And that was just like Joshua, Daniel thinks- even his dirty talk was all darkness and violence, ravaging and conquering.

Daniel finally seizes Simon's straining erection, spreading the man's own viscous fluid against his hardened flesh with each slick pump.

Joshua thrills in the wet, muted noises of Daniel pleasuring Simon. And Simon... Simon is a wreck. Head thrown back on Daniel's shoulder, his face twisted in erotic pain, he thrusts back against Daniel's cock, panting softly each time the blunt head of the missionary's erection grazes against his entrance- teasing, but never breeching. His body is tense, strung tight as a bow, as he alternates between pushing back into Daniel's hips and pressing forward into his pumping grasp.

In that split second, Joshua makes a decision- he simply could not wait any longer. The aching, consuming lust within him burns to a fever pitch as he presses closer to the joined, writhing bodies and bats Daniel's hand away from Simon's leaking cock. 

Daniel huffs, but his slight agitation is far surpassed by Simon's: the courier lets out a thoroughly undignified whine and his cock twitches up into the empty air, suddenly deprived of Daniel's tight and warm stimulation. 

Joshua pays it no mind, at first, looming over the courier and seizing the other man's face in his hands, drawing Simon's sweaty countenance close to his own. Close enough that he could make out the courier's handsome, pained expression even by the meager light of the dying campfire. 

Simon's lips are full and parted as he pants, bitten raw and pink, and longing twists like a knife in Joshua's stomach. "Daniel," he murmurs, gaze not leaving Simon's. "Would you kindly cover his eyes?"

Simon, who's own aforementioned eyes had been slowly closing as Joshua leaned into him, stiffens suddenly at the ex-legate's bizarre request. 

"What!?" He squawks, indignant, as Daniel clasps a strong hand over the top of his face, obscuring his vision entirely. 

Daniel cradles the courier's head against the crook of his neck and, despite himself, presses a kiss to the other man's flushed cheek.

"Shh," he soothes, "it's ok...easy now..." Simon's half-hearted squirming causes Daniel's erection to shift against the courier, pushing bluntly against his entrance, and Daniel uses a free hand to steady Simon's swiveling hips, looking to Joshua for instruction. 

Their gazes met over the top of Simon's head (Joshua's is distant, decisive, while Daniel's is imploring, accusatory) and Joshua pets his thumbs tenderly across Simon's swollen mouth, framed perfectly by the two men's collective hands sealed across his face. 

Joshua contemplates for a moment before removing his grasp entirely, reaching to his own face.

"May God have mercy on you, courier," he rasps, trailing his fingers up to the edge of his bandages at the corner of his neck. "And may He have mercy on me." 

With shaky hands he unwinds the dirty strips slowly, peeling them away from his chin and jaw and stopping just under the bottom of his nose. 

Daniel blanches at the sight before him. The bottom half of Joshua's face is uncovered, and he had never seen so much of the man's skin before. The flesh of his lower jaw is dark and rough, alternating between solid, raised ridges of brown and pink tissue and smooth, shiny patches of white scarring. The mottled skin is split painfully by what was once a mouth- now a ruddy gash of cracked and sinewy lips, which part as Joshua breaths heavily, staring openly at Daniel and daring him to say anything at all.

Daniel merely watches, shocked, silent, as Joshua drops his tattered strip of discarded bandage to the ground, once again clasping both hands around Simon's head. He holds the courier's face steady and leans down, pressing their lips together and ravaging the other man's mouth in a fierce kiss. Simon groans deeply as Joshua parts his lips with a dexterous tongue, and it is the heavy, rumbling sigh of a man granted something he'd long been denied. 

Joshua's bandaged forehead brushes against Daniel's fingers, scratching against them where they covered Simon's eyes and held his head back. Simon, himself, was breathing so quickly that Daniel felt vaguely worried he might hyperventilate. He smooths a hand down the courier's sweaty chest, feeling the other man's lungs rapidly expand and deflate beneath his ribcage. "Easy," he repeats again, but Simon pays no mind, and his moan sounds suspiciously like a sob when Joshua pulls away, pressing a final, gentle kiss to Simon's lower lip before separating completely. 

Vision still obscured by Daniel's fingers, Simon darts a tongue across his own lips desperately, as if seeking out any remaining taste of the burned man. "Joshua," he pleads, and his voice is so hoarse it cracks."Please, let me see you..."

His only response is a soft, sad finger stroking gently across his cheek.

With a frustrated growl, he tries to turn his head to Daniel. "Please," he tries again, rubbing himself back against Daniel's lap where he can feel the missionary's waning erection slowly swelling back to life. But Daniel does not answer either, both men silent....until the courier reaches up and grabs at Daniel's hands with the obvious intent to pry them away.

"Simon!" Daniel barks, and the authoritative edge to his angry command causes Simon to freeze, fingers locked over Daniel's. 

"Put your hands down, Simon," Daniel continues, voice lower but no less stern. Joshua shoots Daniel a grateful expression. Daniel finds it distinctly strange that he can see the other man's smirking lips, infinitely more telling than the usual subtle indentation of bandages in the area where he knew the former legate's mouth to be. It makes the missionary uncomfortable- it's too bare, too starkly naked... even though, ironically, Joshua is the only one among them with his pants still done up. 

Joshua would have been surprised at the other man's uncharacteristic outburst had he not already witnessed Daniel's temper flare earlier that night, during their confrontation before Simon had arrived. Instead, he was simply grateful. He would not- _could_ not endure Simon seeing his uncovered skin. Not yet.

After a beat of silence Simon obeys, dropping his hands from his face. "Alright," he grouses, "fine, ok, but please, can I jus'... can I touch you?"

Joshua considers it. Even having so little of his face uncovered was already taking a toll on his tolerance, raw nerve endings singing in pain from exposure to the open air. His mouth ached terribly from the kiss, but, he decided, it was a necessary pain. One easily overlooked, given the reward for his enduring. 

"...Alright," he decides finally. "You may." Joshua is quite certain that has already been utterly damned for his...proclivities. If he is to fall to sin, then he will do it correctly- thoroughly, utterly, and completely. 

 

He takes the courier's hand in his own, raising it to his face. Simon's touch burns, it singes his charred skin with a raw, overbearing ache that feels like being set aflame all over again. Joshua grits his teeth and bears it, trying to focus only on the enrapturing touch of Simon's fingers across his own flesh- skin finally meeting skin in a way that, before tonight, he would have never even dreamed possible.

He looks down and sees Daniel thrusting into the courier, fully sheathed inside of the other man's body. He thrusts shallowly, barely leaving Simon's body before forcing himself back in. Simon pants harshly. "Someone needs to kiss me again," he demands, and Joshua admires the soft curve of Simon's spit slicked lips as they shape the request.

His reply is hoarse. "Daniel will." 

 

Daniel turns Simon's head, pulling him into a kiss, arm still looped awkwardly around the courier's head where he forcibly obscured his vision. Simon's mouth fell open immediately, panting into Daniel's, and the kiss is so viscerally lewd that Joshua cannot help himself.

 

He bends, taking Simon's leaking erection into his mouth, and it is shameful, detestable, sinful, and so very wonderful. Simon lets out a muffled groan, rubbing his fingers across the burned man's scarred jaw.

Together the trio writhes, a tangled heap of skin and sweat. Simon is the first to break, pushing back into Daniel with a cry and spilling down Joshua's throat. Joshua holds the courier's hips strongly, riding out the stuttering aftershocks of pleasure, and when Simon finally falls still he allows the softening flesh to slide out from between his lips, discretely spitting on to the ground. Despite it, the taste of Simon's climax still coats his mouth, lingering on his palette, and it isn't pleasant but he can't bring himself to care.

Daniel finishes next. He pulls Simon's slackened body tight against his own, one hand still clasped firmly across the courier's eyes, the other winding itself around his waist to hold him steady as he thrusts into the other man deeply, once, twice, three times more- and with an arched back, feet digging into the ground around where Joshua knelt, he came. He was quieter than Simon, burying his mouth against the other man's neck and kissing the skin he found there desperately. 

It's over. It is done. Joshua moves away and reaches down into the dark, skimming the ground around him for the bandages he haphazardly discarded earlier. Finding them, he picks them up and shakes out the dust before reaching to his face and beginning to wind them around his head again. The wrappings aren't clean, but they will have to do- he can change them in the morning. 

Daniel withdraws from Simon, shifting their bodies around in order to pull his trousers back up and on. When he sees Joshua fully covered- scalded skin obscured as he once again becomes the bandaged, Burned Man- he drops his hand from Simon's face. 

Simon blinks rapidly, rubbing his hands against his eyes as they readjust to the night.

"...Shit," is all he says, before retrieving his shirt and pulling it back on. Daniel nods in silent agreement, passing the courier his pants, and were he a different man Joshua might have chuckled.

"Both of you may use my tent, if you desire," he says, instead. "There is room enough, and I shall sleep here."

"Alright," Daniel agrees, and his voice is tired. He stands and walks over to the tent, pulling the canvas opening back and disappearing inside.

Simon does not follow. Instead, he pulls himself to his knees and looks to Joshua with a curious expression on his face. "Are you...ok?"

Joshua regards him, tilting his head to the side. Simon moves closer, seating himself directly in front of the other man as he fumbles awkwardly to expound on his inquiry. "I mean, I noticed you didn't, uh, I mean, you hadn't...after we both...."

Ah. Joshua understands. "It is of no consequence," he dismisses, pulling himself to his feet. Hoping Simon would take the hint. "You must be tired."

Simon stands as well, and he actually laughs in disbelief. "What do ya mean by that? 'Must be tired'? You mean 'cause I just got fucked while you talked dirty 'n sucked me off? Is _that_ why I must be tired?"

Joshua feels his face flush hot, though he is not even sure if his skin blushes anymore. "Go to sleep, courier. We can talk in the morning."

"I don't think so, boss," Simon counters, inserting himself into Joshua's personal space- crowding him. 

"We don't have to talk," he rumbles, mouth pressed close to Joshua's bandage-covered ear. "Nobody has to say a word. Just... let me..." He reaches down between Joshua's legs, sliding his strong palm beneath the other man's trousers and grasping solidly at the swelling still straining almost painfully against his undergarments, and the burned man actually wails. "Simon-" he objects shakily, but Simon swallows the protest with his own mouth, kissing Joshua through his dirtied wrapping as he moulds his hand around the man's clothed erection.

It doesn't last long- it doesn't need to. Already so close to the edge, so wound up by the night's proceedings, it only takes a few firm pumps before Joshua is losing himself, hips moving languidly with Simon's strokes. Sweaty foreheads pressed together, both men huffing and panting harshly into each other's air as Joshua tries desperately to pretend what's happening isn't happening. Simon is nearly purring in contentment, bumping his nose against Joshua's and pressing tiny kisses to the corner of his covered mouth. And finally, finally Joshua comes, sighing Simon's name in reverence.

Simon releases him and withdraws his hand almost immediately. Joshua feels weak in the knees, but steadies himself. "Go to sleep, courier," he repeats, voice quieter than before.

"G'night, boss," the courier responds gently, but he doesn't move right away. He reaches out, hand hovering just above Joshua's cheek before hesitating, unsure. 

Joshua makes the decision for him, reaching up his own hand and pressing the courier's palm against his bandaged face. It hurts, unbearably, but it's a hurt he's slowly getting used to. 

They stand that way for a moment, neither saying a word, before Simon finally drops his hand and makes his way to the tent, disappearing inside of it as Daniel had.

Joshua lays himself on the ground next to the extinguished campfire. He considers relighting it, as the night is still frigid, but cannot muster up the strength to move again. He turns his face towards the cold and blackened debris of the logs, and he closes his eyes to pray.

He prays every night, but tonight he struggles. He is unsure what to say. A prayer from his youth surfaces in the back of his mind, a childish mantra taught to Mormon children who had not yet learned how to pray properly. "Angele Dei," he whispers, addressing the night. "Qui custos es mei-"

_Angel of god, my guardian dear.._

"-me tibi commissum pietate superna-"

_...to whom His love commits me here.._

"-Hodie, Hac nocte illumina-"

_...ever this night be at my side..._

Joshua pauses then, falters. He struggles to remember the rest. "Hac nocte...illumina..." he repeats, searching the recesses of his mind. And then it comes to him, and he continues.

"Custodi, rege, et guberna."

_...to light and guard, to rule and guide._

To rule and guide. Had he been ruled by the holy spirit tonight, guided by the Lord's divinity? He didn't know. He doubted it, found it very hard to believe that anything which had transpired was any less than disgrace in the eyes of the Father. But he had hope. Because when he looked at Simon, when he finally felt Simon's hands on his skin, it moved something inside of him. It felt like redemption. Maybe that's what sin truly was- the near indescribable kindling of "want" and "need" and "forgive" curling in his chest like salvation. Or was it temptation?

"... Amen."

_Amen._

\--

Daniel is the first to rise, startled awake by the sound of the tent flap opening. He looks up to see Joshua standing in the entryway guiltily. 

"My apologizes," the Burned Man states. "I did not mean to wake you."

"It's alright," Daniel replies, voice thick and gravely upon waking, and he clears his throat. He doesn't bother to ask why Joshua was standing there, or how long he had planned on watching the two of them sleep. He didn't really want to know. "Did you need something?"

Joshua pauses, before responding. "Why did you come here?"

Daniel sighs. "Honestly?" 

"Of course."

He frowns, scratching lightly at his chin. "Word got around to Dead Horse Point that Caesar had been killed and...well, I thought it'd been you who killed him. _Still_ thought it was you, up until the merchants told me otherwise. It was still just hear-say but... the way they talked about him, the 'delivery boy'...it sounded like Simon, and I just kinda knew, then, that it was him."

Daniel turns to regard Simon's unconscious form, back against the wall of the tent, curling slightly in on himself. He watches the way his chest rises and falls with the even-measured breathing of sleep, before looking back to Joshua and raising an eyebrow. "I had a feeling he'd come back here. He's like you, you know. He's sick with your revenge."

The sun was just rising over the cliffs of New Zion, it's fiery hues of gold and red ripping a bloody gash in the overcast sky. From outside the tent, Joshua could make out the rippling shimmer of the river, it's waves catching fragments of sunbeams and shining with them like diamonds. Somewhere, in the distance, a coyote howls out its morning call.

"What are you going to do now?" Daniel asks. 

For the first time in a very long time, the burned man could not answer him.

**Author's Note:**

> ([tumblr](http://soft-moth.tumblr.com/) for messages/prompts/friends ♥)


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